


I have the power of magic and Vine compilations on my side

by chiara_scuro



Series: Crack fics [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Crack Fic, Day 16: meme/crack, Established Relationship, Fluff and Crack, Love Confessions, M/M, Watford (Simon Snow), Watford Eighth Year, made up spells, the mage gets owned, vines as spells, what's plot?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27992985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiara_scuro/pseuds/chiara_scuro
Summary: “What’s going on?” I whisper to Penny, who’s gaping at Miss Possibelf, her expression part excited, part horrified.“Listen,” she says, rolling her eyes. (She’s scarily like Baz sometimes. Or Baz is scarily like her.)“That includes memes, Vines, Tik-Toks and whatever else you could think of,” Miss Possibelf says. My mouth falls open as I realize what’s going on.“Are we… are we doing Internet spells?”
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Crack fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2056356
Comments: 36
Kudos: 124
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2020





	I have the power of magic and Vine compilations on my side

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> This is my fic for the COC prompt meme/crack. I'm sure the vines as spells trope has been done before, but I really wanted to try my hand at it too. Please excuse the lack of plot here, my main objective was to make it as ridiculous as possible. Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this fic and I hope you have a lot of fun reading it! 
> 
> A big thank you to the lovely [banjjakbanjjak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/banjjakbanjjak/pseuds/banjjakbanjjak) for beta reading this!

SIMON

I’m not paying attention during Magic Words. I hardly ever pay attention during Magic Words. It’s not my fault I’m shit at both magic and words – it’s like this subject was made to inconvenience me.

I just stare at Baz. I can do that, now that we’re dating. (Well, I’ve done it before, but now I can _justify_ doing it.) I know he doesn’t like it when I spend the whole class staring at him, or at least he pretends he doesn’t like it (“I won’t have you fail this class because you’re too thirsty for your own good, Snow.”), but it’s not my fault he’s in my field of vision.

Baz sits in the front row, always taking notes, answering questions and following the class. He’s not doing any of that now. Instead, he’s staring at Miss Possibelf, his mouth hanging open.

I realize the other students are doing that as well. Maybe I should be paying attention.

“What’s going on?” I whisper to Penny, who’s gaping at Miss Possibelf, her expression part excited, part horrified.

“Listen,” she says, rolling her eyes. (She’s scarily like Baz sometimes. Or Baz is scarily like her.)

“That includes memes, Vines, Tik-Toks and whatever else you could think of,” Miss Possibelf says. My mouth falls open as I realize what’s going on.

“Are we… are we doing Internet spells?” I ask. Penny nods her head.

“Now keep in mind that these are age-limited spells. If you’ve been on the Internet, they should work on you, even if you don’t know the reference – it’s called generational humour – but your spell-work won’t work on people older than thirty unless they know the reference. The objective is to find as many spells as you can. For this week only, there will be no consequences for the havoc your spells wreak. Please, try not to burn the school down.”

I grin.

Suddenly, I like Magic Words very much.

Baz isn’t on board with the idea.

“So, our assignment is essentially to lie in bed and scroll on our phones?” he says once we’re out of class. “I can’t believe Snow is about to ace his homework for once in his life.”

“That should be illegal! These are new spells! We don’t know their full effects!” Penny complains. “I can’t believe the Mage is making us do this!”

“I think it’s going to be fun,” I say. I have to agree with Baz – this is the one area I’m more well-read (well, “well-read”) in than he and Penny are. I’m going to use that to my advantage, even if they’re much better at magic than I am.

“Name one thing that’s going to be fun about this,” Baz mutters. I take out my wand and point it at his notebook.

“ ** _Yeet!_** ”

His notebook flies across the Great Lawn. He shoots me a glare. “Nice to know the Chosen One can work up a spell.” He pulls out his wand. “ ** _Finders keepers_**!” The notebook comes flying back.

“It was probably just beginner’s luck,” I shrug. I can’t imagine being good at spells, even if I do watch a lot of Vine compilations. Still, it’s nice to entertain the thought for a while – how entertaining would it be to just **yeet** the goblin horde instead of slaying them. Can we **yeet** away the Humdrum?

That would be fun.

We end up sitting out on the Great Lawn and Penny makes me show them my favourite Vine compilations. It’s pure bliss – she’d never let me show them to her otherwise. She seems to be taking this seriously, writing notes along with the time stamps. Baz, however, is not interested. He seemed to prefer hugging me from behind and peppering little kisses on different parts of my face. I’ve never seen him less interested in schoolwork but I can’t really say I’m complaining.

“Baz,” Penny scolds him, using the tone she usually does with me when _I’m_ distracted from my homework. “Enough flirting.”

“I don’t need to know this, Bunce. Snow watches his YouTube without earbuds. I’ve heard all these horrid phrases at least a thousand times,” he says, resting his face in the crook of my neck.

“No, you didn’t,” I object. “You always cast a silencing spell.”

“I’ll stop casting it and I’ll be all caught up,” he retorts.

“Somehow I doubt that,” I grin at him. We both know I watch a lot less YouTube since we started dating. Baz now makes me do my homework and in our free time we’re… otherwise occupied.

“It’s homework, Snow. How dare you accuse me of not doing my homework?”

“I don’t think you’d do any homework if it involved lying on my bed, looking at YouTube videos.”

“And why is that so?” Baz mumbles, turning his head to kiss my neck. I let him. Penny groans.

“ ** _Five feet apart cuz they’re not gay_** ,” we hear her cast next to us. Her magic hits me but nothing happens – Baz’s hands are still around my waist. “Well, it was worth a try,” she mutters.

“That’s not going to work, Bunce, we very clearly _are_ gay,” Baz says. I look around the Great Lawn and see Rhys and Gareth, who were sitting together before, now five feet apart from each other, looking dumbfounded.

“It did work, though,” I say, pointing over to them.

Penny sighs and points her ring at them. “ ** _As you were_**.”

The spell breaks and the two of them are able to sit together again.

“I can’t believe you wanted to turn me straight, Bunce! Or break me up with Snow! We didn’t overcome _years_ of mutual hatred just to be broken up by a half-arsed meme spell!” Baz laments. Penny rolls his eyes at him.

“Oh relax, I was just seeing if it could work on Trixie and Keris. Do you think there’s a spell that could actually turn you straight?”

“If there was, my father would’ve certainly figured it out by now,” Baz says. He feels me tense up in his arms and he kisses my shoulder. “Besides, I don’t think there’s a mage powerful enough to turn _me_ straight, even if there was a spell. Except this one right here, but then I’d see him and immediately become gay again.”

I feel my cheeks turn hot. Penny groans again. “Enough flirting!”

BAZ

There are two things that immediately went out the window once Snow and I started dating; his heterosexuality and our carefully structured routine of avoiding each other. Our room went from a place where we fight and huff and ignore each other to a place where we can snog as much as we want (and still occasionally fight and huff and ignore each other) without anyone complaining about excessive flirting.

I can’t say I miss our little dance. What I _do_ miss is our bathroom schedule, though. Before that, it was very clear cut; Snow in the evenings, me in the mornings, come rain or shine. Now, Snow often abandons his evening showers for the sake of kissing me until either of us falls asleep. I can’t say I’m complaining, but it does make it difficult to get to breakfast on time.

Yesterday was one such day. Which means this morning, we’re bound to have another battle over who gets to shower first. (I suppose there’s going to be a time in our relationship when we could shower _together_ , but we’re not there yet and I don’t want to push him.) (However, it could be very time-saving.) (Or maybe not.)

Snow wants to go first, of course.

“You take forever!” he complains. “I don’t want to miss breakfast.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Snow. You had your chance last night and you blew it,” I say, pulling out my uniform out of the wardrobe.

“I was _distracted_ ,” he objects, his voice dropping lower. I know he’s trying to soften me up but it won’t work.

“Not my fault you have the attention span of a hamster,” I shrug, spelling the wrinkles out of my shirt as I do so.

“Not my fault my boyfriend is horribly needy,” he retorts. I roll my eyes at him. If my memory doesn’t deceive me (and I know it doesn’t), _he_ was the one who kept kissing my neck for two hours last night.

“I don’t think your boyfriend is at fault here, Snow,” I say, glancing over at him. He’s already by the bathroom door. “Oh no you won’t!” I jump up, towards him.

“Oh yes I will!”

We wrestle at the doorway and suddenly he grabs me by the wrists and starts pushing me back. I’m letting him. (I could stop him – I do have vampire strength, after all – but I’m not sure I want to.) He pushes me back on the bed and topples over me and the next moment, his lips are on mine and he’s kissing me. Hard.

I can’t help a sound of surprise escape my lips and I want to put my arms around him, but he’s still pinning them to the bed and fucking hell, this boy is going to be the death of me.

He pulls away. “I go first,” he says. I groan, partially because he’s no longer kissing me, partially because I can’t believe he just used his lips as a method of persuasion. (Snow is fully aware of the effect his mouth has on me – he uses it generously.)

“I hate you. I actually hate you,” I mutter, reaching for my wand that has fallen by the foot of my bed in the process.

“Would you like me to come over there and shut you up again?” Simon asks, and my insides feel like someone just dropped them off a very tall building.

“Not as much as I’d like you to let me use the bathroom first.”

“Tough luck,” he shrugs, grabbing his clothes. He’s already by the bathroom door when I have an idea.

I point my wand at him. “ ** _Move, I’m gay!_** ” I cast. He suddenly jerks to the side, by the wall and I’d feel bad if I wasn’t so amused by the fact that it actually worked. (I mean, I should feel bad. Trying out a new spell on your boyfriend is _completely immoral_ , but he did just snog away my right to the morning shower, so why shouldn’t I be able to use some of my charms as well?) (And I mean charms quite literally.)

I look at my wand, raising my eyebrows in surprise. “Well, I think I just found my new favourite spell,” I say. Snow scowls at me. I get out of bed and grab my clothes.

“Thank you dear,” I press a kiss on his cheek. He’s glaring at me.

“You’re going to pay for this, Pitch.”

“I can’t wait.”

Snow comes to breakfast late, still glaring at me. I wink at him from across the hall and he just huffs, digging into his scones. I have a small batch of scones by my side as well, wrapped neatly in a napkin to give to him later as a peace offering.

Dev and Niall are buzzing this morning. They look ghastly, like they haven’t gotten an ounce of sleep, but they don’t seem to mind.

“We found a new spell,” Niall informs me. “I think it could be used as a studying spell. Possibly.”

“Oh?” I raise my eyebrows at them. “Show it, then.”

Niall points his wand at Dev, who braces for the impact. (Niall’s magic feels like a bucket of freezing cold water. I can’t say I like it.) “ ** _Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell_** ,” he casts. Dev shivers, but immediately looks more awake.

“What the fuck is a mitochondria?” I ask, amused. Niall shrugs.

“The powerhouse of the cell, it seems.”

“So, it’s a spell that wakes you up? Are you sure it’s not just your magic?”

“No, it works when I cast it on Niall as well. We didn’t sleep all night because we were trying it out,” Dev says. I roll my eyes at them – waking up spells are like coffee. They work great, but when they wear off, you crash so hard you’re practically comatose.

“Would you like me to cast one on you as well?” Niall asks.

“No thank you. I’ll just have my tea.”

Dev and Niall do crash later, during Magickal History. Both of them are dozing off on their desks, on either side of me, and I’ve cast a concealment spell on them so that they don’t get caught. (It’s disgustingly sweet of me. Simon Snow and his bloody kindness are rubbing off on me.)

I’m listening to our professor droning on about how my great-great aunt Pitch drove the numpties out of the Witches Quarry, when I hear a faint **yeet** behind me and my pen flies out of my hand. Both me and my professor stop to look at it.

“Apologies,” I mutter, scrambling to pick it up. The professor goes back to talking about numpties and I hear a giggle behind me. I turn my head to glare at Snow. He looks bloody pleased with himself and I can’t even be mad at him, because I’m so impressed by the fact that he got a spell to work for him with enough accuracy to knock a pen out of my hand. Knowing how Snow’s spells usually go, that **yeet** should’ve sent me flying across the classroom.

I can’t believe Snow managed to find one spell to work for him and it’s a meme spell. Of course it bloody is. I roll my eyes and get back to the class.

SIMON

I catch up with Baz during lunch. I decided to stop sulking because he spelled me to the wall this morning – knocking that pen out of his hand was entertaining enough to make me forget about the whole ordeal. (Also, it was pretty funny that he used a **move, I’m gay** instead of **stand your ground** or some other fancy spell he usually goes for.)

“So, I was thinking,” I start. Baz shoots me a look.

“You do that?”

I jab my elbow in his ribs and he doesn’t even flinch. (Fucking vampires, I swear.) “I was thinking,” I try again. “ **Yeet** worked twice on you now. And I know there’s this thing Miss Possibelf talked about the uh… shared humour—”

“Generational humour,” Baz corrects me.

“That. Well, it wouldn’t have worked on you if you didn’t find it funny. Ergo, you find Vines funny, you just won’t admit it!” I beam. (Okay, maybe I didn’t reach that conclusion myself. Penny said this when I told her about what spell Baz used this morning.)

“I don’t know what I could possibly find funny about six second videos with poor grammar and no real purpose, Snow. Yeet isn’t even a real word.”

“Oh, admit it, you find it funny!” I insist. (I swear I did catch him smiling a bit at some of the videos we watched yesterday, but it was impossible to tell. Baz is a master of keeping a straight face.) (At least he can keep _something_ straight.)

“I do not.”

“Merry crisis,” I prompt him with another Vine reference to see if I can get him to smile. 

“Are you referring to the day we got together?” he raises his eyebrow at me. I sigh in exasperation. He’s impossible.

We eat lunch on the Great Lawn again. It’s been getting warmer and less people are looking at us on the Lawn, which means Baz can eat without worrying about people seeing his fangs. (He still worries, but Penny and I sit in a way that shields him from everyone else. He keeps chewing with his hand over his mouth though. It’s a work in progress.)

“It’s Wednesday, my dudes,” I say as we settle on the grass. Wednesday is my favourite day of the week because our lunch break is particularly long. Baz produces a packet of salt and vinegar crisps out of his backpack (he’ll share them now, if I ask him nicely) along with some scones and I’m positively delighted. It’s a shame we don’t have butter, but oh well.

We eat our lunch first, then Penny spells the plates away (waste of magic) and we just lounge on the blanket, doing homework until I feel hungry again. (Granted that’s only thirty minutes but still.)

“Can we open the crisps now?” I ask, looking up from my Greek homework. Baz cocks an eyebrow at me.

“Already, Snow?”

“I’m hungry.”

“When are you not hungry?” he asks, looking amused. Then he reaches for the salt and vinegar crisps and opens it. Penny looks up, a smile stretching across her face.

“I have an idea!” she says, her fingers tracing across her ring like they always do when she’s thinking about spells. Baz notices.

“Oh no. You are _not_ cursing my crisps,” he says, holding the bag away from her. He’s practically shoving it in my face, so I take it from his hands and help myself with some crisps. He shoots me a glare.

“I’m not going to curse your crisps, just…” she sighs and holds out her ring finger in front of her. “ ** _Fr e sh a voca do_** ,” she casts, manifesting a small container full of guacamole. My jaw falls open. This is the best spell ever!

“This spell is an abomination,” Baz frowns.

“ _No_ ,” I disagree, reaching out for the guac. “This spell is what will eventually save humanity.”

Baz scoffs. “You really think climate change could be solved by an ounce of guacamole?”

I pop the lid open and dip a crisp in. “ _Everything_ can be solved by guacamole.”

BAZ

I’ve had just about enough of this assignment. Sure, it was fun when I could use **Move, I’m gay!** on Snow this morning, but seeing him try (and fail) to cast that atrocious guacamole spell in our room for this entire evening has been… well, exhausting. Just the pronunciation makes my eyes twitch. I mean, why would you want to do something like that to vowels? I’m sitting in bed, trying to focus on my book, but that’s proving to be extremely difficult.

Snow sighs, tossing his wand aside after yet another unsuccessful attempt at massacring the pronunciation of the words ‘fresh avocado’.

“You do it,” he says, pushing the covers aside and crawling next to me in the bed. 

“Absolutely not. I refuse to participate in the butchering of the English language.”

“Come on,” he leans on my shoulder, wrapping both his arms around my forearm. It’s endearing – and one of Simon’s favourite persuasion methods.

“You’ve already had guacamole today,” I remind him.

“It never hurts to have more, does it?”

“I’m sure your body is not used to this much fibre,” I say.

“What’s fibre?”

“My point exactly.”

“So, will you do it?” he asks, wrapping his arms tighter around mine and lacing our fingers together. I can’t see his face, but I’m sure he’s giving me puppy eyes right now.

“No,” I say. Snow’s methods of persuasion might be strong, but my respect for the English language is stronger. Besides, I don’t want to get guacamole on my wand.

“You’re no fun.”

“And yet you’re still clinging to me like a bloody separation anxiety imp,” I say.

“That’s a thing?” Simon lifts his head.

“Possesses pets and little children.”

“Surely that’s just psychology.”

“Tell that to my sisters, Snow. The imp is partial to twins – we’ve had to exorcise them.”

“Of course, someone from your family had to get an exorcism. Bloody Pitches.”

“They’re Grimms,” I remind him.

“Whatever,” he rolls his eyes.

“I’m starting to believe the imp is partial to a certain Chosen One too,” I say, because he’s still clinging to me. (Although I never want him to let go.)

“Bollocks. I grew up in care. I’m practically immune.”

I toss my book aside and wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer. “Can you please stop joking about that?” I mutter against his ear. The fact that Simon had to spend the first eleven years of his life without anyone properly caring about him is too painful. He deserves so much better. Crowley, he deserves everything – everything that is as good and pure as he is. I press a kiss on top of his head.

“Sorry,” he says, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Are you sure _you’re_ not possessed by this imp?” he nudges my cheek with his nose, his voice dropping lower. I run my hands up and down his back.

“Me? No. I’m just…” my voice trails off. I want to say _in love_ , but I’m afraid I’ll push him. “Suffering from a particular affliction,” I say.

“Oh? And what would that affliction be?” he prompts me, his tone still flirty, like he’s _trying_ to kill me. 

“Vampirism.” I deadpan. He starts laughing, his head falling on my shoulder and I start wondering if you can die from your heart swelling so much it feels too big for your chest – because Simon laughing in my arms does just that to me. Crowley, I love him so much. I let my arms tighten around him and the next moment he’s angling his head up and his lips are on mine. He shouldn’t be able to surprise me like that and yet he does, every time.

Simon may not be good with words, but he’s bloody brilliant with his mouth. His lips are soft and gentle against mine and saying everything I want to say. I give into him completely, letting my body melt against his, letting his tongue part my lips, letting his heartbeat echo in my ears. It’s so good, it’s so good, it’s so good. And he’s so alive…

“I don’t think that’s vampirism,” he mumbles against my lips.

“It well is. All vampires are well attracted to blokes who were prophesied,” I raise my eyebrow at him. He scoffs and shakes his head, then kisses me again. Softly, briefly. It’s over before I know it and all I can think is _kiss me again_.

“I don’t think it’s vampirism,” he starts again. “Because I think I have it too.”

Simon and I ended up kissing so much last night, that we’re now practically zombies. Halfway through the day, I seriously consider casting Dev and Niall’s mitochondria spell on myself, but the aftermath would be even worse.

I decide on skipping tea to nap instead. I never did it before Snow and I got together, but now I found I rather enjoy it, especially when Snow comes back to our room and curls up next to me.

I fall into bed and within seconds, I’m asleep.

“Baz,” something pokes my cheek. “Baz.”

I open one eye and glance down, then to my left. Snow _is_ wrapped around me, and the thing poking my cheek is his nose.

“What?” I try to sound more annoyed than I actually am.

“I had an idea,” he raises his eyebrows at me, biting his lip. The whole thing is intriguing to say the least.

“An idea that warrants waking me up from my beauty sleep?” I ask.

“So, I was thinking and I can’t do the guacamole spell, right?”

I groan. “Not this again.”

“ _But_ I could try a different spell for a different thing that could pair greatly with Penny’s guac spell!” he continues excitedly, completely ignoring my comment. I sigh.

“If it involves botched pronunciations, I’m out of here,” I say.

“It does not.”

Snow sits up and I follow his suit, wrapping my hand around his waist. He pulls out his wand and clears his throat.

“I really think this might work,” he informs me.

“Have I ever doubted you, Snow?” I raise my eyebrow at him.

“Excessively.”

“Let’s see it then.”

He clears his throat again. “ ** _Hurricane Katrina? More like hurricane tortilla!_** ” he casts.

I know it’s going to go wrong the moment he says it – and sure enough, a cyclone of tortilla chips starts forming on our ceiling, then raining down, falling on our floor, our desks, his bed and everywhere except on my bed. Snow’s eyes widen in shock and we both watch the storm unravel.

“Snow,” I start after the final chip falls to the ground. “What part of _hurricane_ do you not understand?”

“I… I thought it would summon a bag of tortilla chips,” he says, dumbfounded. I can’t help it – I start laughing, my head falling on his shoulder.

“This is so idiotic,” I giggle.

“Stop laughing at me!”

“I’m not laughing at you, Snow, I’m laughing at the state of our room. Look at that!” The layer of tortilla chips is at least an inch thick. It’s absurd.

Snow manages a chuckle too as he picks up a chip and pops it in his mouth. “It’s edible,” he observes.

“Your eating habits are concerning,” I inform him, then pull my wand out and point it at the floor. “ ** _Out, out, damned spot!_** ” I cast. Half of the chips disappear. “ ** _Nothing to see here!_** ”

“Why did you spell them away?” Snow asks. “We could’ve had a feast!”

“If you want to eat floor crisps, Snow, go ahead, but some of us have manners.”

There’s a knock on our door then and Snow bolts out of my arms and to his bed. An unmistaken crunch is heard as he sits down and he looks at me with a panicked expression, mouthing _they’re in my bed_.

I have to bite my lip not to start laughing again. “Come in!” I call, as calmly as I can.

My giddy mood immediately disappears as the Mage walks into our room. He takes one look at us both, then sits down at my desk chair. (I might burn it later.) (I notice there are still some tortilla chips under my desk.)

“Boys,” the Mage starts. “It has come to my attention that you two are…” he pauses, choosing his words. Merlin and Morgana, not this. Not _now_.

We knew the Mage was bound to find out about our relationship at some point, but I’ve just dealt with an actual storm of snack food, so I’d prefer not to have this conversation right now. (Or ever. I can’t imagine his reaction to the news would be good, even if it is old news.)

“Engaging in homosexual activity?” I offer. Simon sends me a look, his face turning an alarming shade of red.

“That’s one way to put it, Mr. Pitch,” the Mage nods. “Well, let’s cut to the chase. You’re not allowed to share rooms anymore. In fact, I think I’ll relocate you, Mr. Pitch, to the Fraternity House.”

“What? You can’t do that!” Snow explodes. My mouth is hanging open in disbelief and I’m momentarily too stunned to speak. 

“I’m afraid I can. It is against Watford policies to share a room with your uh… _lover_.”

I cringe at his choice of words. (I’m pretty sure he’s just ruined this word for me.) I also happen to know that it’s _not_ against Watford policies and I open my mouth to object, but Snow beats me to it.

“But it’s not against the policies to share a room with someone who wants to kill you?” he asks. He makes a good point, even though thinking of our past makes me wince.

“Yes, and why would you be dating him? You said on multiple counts that he’s evil and wants to kill you, Simon! Why this change of heart?” The Mage is shouting now.

“Because I love him!” Simon yells back. I freeze and melt at the same time. He’s never said it before, and as much as it is mortifying to hear a love confession from him in an argument with _the Mage_ , my heart still flutters. 

He loves me. Aleister Crowley. 

“You don’t know about love! You’re eighteen!” the Mage objects. “You’re too young to know what you want, Simon, and for the record, I think breaking up with Agatha was a mistake. Trust me, the Pitches are not interested in you beyond the point of—”

My wand is pointed at him and before he can finish the sentence, I cast an “ ** _Okay, boomer!_** ” at him. His mouth is still opening and closing but no words are coming out. Simon clasps a hand over his mouth, trying to stifle a giggle.

I’ve probably just gotten myself neck-deep in trouble, but it’s worth it, for Simon’s reaction.

“Mr Pitch! I’ll have a word with your father!” The Mage explodes. (Huh. I haven’t made him permanently mute with my spell. I’m kind of disappointed, but at least that lowers my chances of expulsion.) 

“Thank you for trying to raise my allowance, sir, but I already have plenty,” I say. The Mage growls in frustration.

“And you two will definitely be getting—” his voice dies off mid-sentence, but his mouth is still talking. So, it appears that the spell only mutes the victim on one topic. (Maybe if I cast it enough times, we can shut the Mage up permanently.) I bite back a smile and the Mage growls again before storming out of our room. He crushes a tortilla chip on the way out.

Simon erupts in laughter as soon as he’s out. He falls back on the bed, clutching his stomach. I start laughing too.

“I can’t believe you _cursed_ the Mage! With a meme spell no less!”

“He got what was coming for him,” I move over to his bed so that we’re lying face to face. I would much rather be addressing the “ _because I love him”_ part of the conversation right now, but he’s still shaking from laughter.

“You’re going to get in trouble,” he says then, suddenly serious.

“Somehow I doubt that; I’m a Pitch and I was just doing my assignment.”

Simon rolls closer to me, resting his head on my shoulder. “Fucking hell,” he’s laughing again. I find his hand and give it a squeeze.

“Simon?”

“Hm?” he looks up at me. His face is still red from laughter and there are tears in the corner of his eyes. My heart gives a squeeze and I lean in closer so that our noses are touching.

“I love you too,” I say softly.

I don’t have time to check for his reaction, because he kisses me. (I guess _this_ is his reaction.) It’s soft and sweet and perfect and it’s him. I give into it, letting him take the lead.

“I love you too,” he smiles when he pulls away. He’s out of breath. (It’s adorable.)

“You already said that,” I smile back.

“I thought an insufferable bastard like you might like to hear it twice,” he retorts. I roll my eyes at him and then I’m kissing him again. He melts into it, his hands gripping my waist, his tongue sliding along my bottom lip.

I sigh. This is bliss.

He rolls us over so that I’m on my back and I hear something crack underneath me. Simon pulls away.

“Baz?”

“Snow. It would appear that you have tortilla chips in your bed,” I raise my eyebrow at him. He erupts in another fit of giggles, falling against me.

“Fucking meme spells,” he sighs.

“So you finally agree they’re the worst?”

“No. They’re the best. There are tortilla chips _in my bed_.”

“Disgusting,” I say.

“Wonderful,” he objects.

“My bed?”

“Your bed.” 

**Author's Note:**

> First things first, Watford desperatly needs a biology course. The fact that Baz doesn't know what a mitochondria is is simply unacceptable.
> 
> Secondly, I would love to hear any of your ideas about meme spells so if you have any, drop a comment (god, I feel like a Youtuber here) or [come say hi on Tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vampire-named-gampire)


End file.
